


(i'll have a) blue christmas

by somethinglikegumption



Series: viva las vegas [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, airports at the holidays are the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethinglikegumption/pseuds/somethinglikegumption
Summary: Jughead is just trying to get home for Christmas. A "some aces up your sleeve" coda.





	(i'll have a) blue christmas

Jughead scoffs at the song coming over the speakers as he sits in the terminal at JFK. Of course it’s Elvis. Of courseit’s playing now, as he tries to negotiate his way onto a plane. A plane going anywhere, as long as it got him out of this airport and on his way to the West Coast.

He can just hear Betty’s voice in his head.  _Go open that club. We’ll be fine here. You’ll be back in time for Christmas._

As the clock ticks away over the gate agent’s head, he almost wants to laugh. If he can get on a magical plane and somehow teleport to the arrivals lounge at McCarran within two hours, he might make it in time. 

_Yeah right._

Finally the little old lady in front of him finishes making her case for pre-boarding and the gate agent hands her a blue ticket sleeve. She had barely tottled away before Jughead pushes his way past her and slams his credit card down on the counter.

“I will pay double whatever you’re asking if I can just get on the first flight going anywhere near Vegas,” he rushes out. The gate agent’s friendly wince tips him off right away.

“I’m sorry sir,” she starts, and he’s already rolling his eyes. “Our flights going west have been grounded due to snow storms in the Midwest.”

“What about Florida? Or Canada? Surely there’s a route that doesn’t fly over the middle. I’m telling you, I’ll pay anything.” 

“Again sir, I apologize but our flights are booked solid. It’s Christmas Eve,” she says, the ‘duh’ in her tone evident. “You might try another airline.”

She waves for the next person in line, dismissing him to go be someone else’s problem. 

And Jughead marks the eight airline to turn him down, to tell him to go somewhere else, to tell him sorry but it’s Christmas.

Grabbing his bag, he goes to the next airline to try his luck there.

On the way, his phone dings. 

**Sweet Pea**

_Any update? Things are moving fast here, you better hurry._

12% battery life and Sweets thinks this text is the most important? He  _knows_ he needs to hurry.

If Betty was here, she’d tell him to relax. Sweet Pea doesn’t know his phone is close to dying. He doesn’t know there’s not a single flight available. He doesn’t know every airline is a pain in Jughead’s ass right now.

A light switches on in Jughead’s head. Sweets might not know all of that, but he does know people, including one very important person.

Jughead picks up the phone and dials.

“Jughead! Where are you? Betty is-” Sweet Pea starts, and he cuts him off.

“I know Betty’s probably freaking out. Put Veronica on the phone,” Jughead demands, and he can hear her in the background, telling Sweet Pea to hand over the phone before he loses a finger.

“Where the hell are you Jones?” Veronica hisses out, and Jughead scruffs a hand over his face.

“JFK still. Where’s the Lodge jet right now?” he asks.

He can hear her fingers tapping on the phone screen, probably texting someone at the office. His battery life shrinks down to 5% as they wait for a response.

The text tone rings out and Veronica breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Teterboro. How fast can you get there?”

“Already on the way,” he says with his suitcase in one hand and his shoulder pushing the exit door open. “Have it ready to go in 30.”

Hanging up the phone without so much as a goodbye, he runs for the taxi line. Veronica will understand.

An agonizing 45 minute cab ride to New Jersey and a prayer of thanks for his possibly-insane driver later, Jughead all but sprints through the building and onto the tarmac, finding the white jet with Lodge Resorts International branded on the side already running and ready to go.

The attendant waits at the top of the stairs, battery pack and charging cord already in hand. 

“Our flight plan has already been approved. We just need you to buckle up and we’ll be on our way, Mr. Jones,” he says, and Jughead takes the items gratefully, throwing himself into a chair and buckling his seatbelt while the attendant loads his suitcase. 

Ten minutes later, they’re in the air and Jughead takes his first real breath since he left Las Vegas a week ago.

From there, it’s a breeze, or as much as a breeze as it could be with how anxious he is. His phone charges and he connects to the Wi-fi, catching up on the photos and texts sent to him over the course of the night. He even catches some restless shut-eye, waking up every 15 minutes but needing the sleep to pass the time and distract him from what might be happening on the ground.

When they land at the private terminal at McCarran, a private car is waiting and Veronica’s already texting the driver instructions. Jughead just sits back and waits until they pull into the driveway.

Sweet Pea meets him outside and leads him through the halls, talking a mile a minute about how “it just happened”, “we didn’t know to expect it”, “you didn’t miss much”. Jughead mostly tunes him out, scanning the open doors and the faces that pass by.

Finally, he makes eye contact with those green eyes he loves so much in a doorway, Veronica leaning over her holding her hand. 

“Juggie,” Betty breathes, smile crossing her face for a brief moment before another contraction starts and she squeezes her eyes closed tightly as Veronica reminds her to breathe through the pain.

Jughead drops his suitcase next to the door and shrugs off his suit jacket, taking her other hand in his. His fingertips turn white from her fierce grip, but to him it’s a blessing. He almost missed this.

The nurse bustles in and sees the new person in the room. “Daddy’s finally here! She wasn’t going to have this baby without you,” she teases, and Jughead looks down at Betty, brushing a piece of sweaty hair off her forehead.

“He promised,” Betty says, thumb brushing the wedding band on his fourth finger. “He promised to always be there.”

Ten minutes later, in the early hours of Christmas morning, Chance Andrew Jones makes his appearance into the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Sarah gave me a Tumblr drabble prompt with Elvis's famous Christmas song. Of course this was the outcome.


End file.
